


Cooking and Knives

by Kisuru



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Manipulation, Mental Instability, Pre-Canon, Self-Harm, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-18 02:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14843921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisuru/pseuds/Kisuru
Summary: Yuri is important to Monika's plans to test out the game. Playing with her code isn't too difficult, but she needs more of an outside influence. Enter Natsuki, who also needs her personality fine-tuned with a fine comb. Upping their negative traits will be an interesting experience.





	Cooking and Knives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoseWithAllHerThorns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseWithAllHerThorns/gifts).



Out of all the Literature Club members, she realizes Yuri is the perfect candidate to ruin.  
  
Several criteria match her ambitions for this task, which makes unhinging Yuri probable. Monika chalks it up to a few prominent traits in Yuri’s arsenal: Yuri is highly mature and unobtrusive, passionate about keeping face in front of others, and her affinity for knives.  
  
Yuri is independent and unwilling to hurt anyone, so she keeps herself in check.  
  
Therefore, Yuri is the most suitable and fairly complex club member to experiment with.

* * *

  
On the cover of the book Yuri reads is a picture of a cutting board and a pair of colorful vegetables. Immediately, it catches her eye as soon as she enters the clubroom. It is not often she sees Yuri reading something of that sort. Natsuki is too busy digging through the closet to notice that Yuri might have found an interest in cooking.  
  
“What’s that book about, Yuri?” Monika asks. She slides into the desk next to her.  
  
Flipping a page, Yuri says, “It’s about knives. I was curious about kinds of knives one of the characters in a horror novel would use.” She scans the page and shakes her head. “Ah, that must sound weird, doesn’t it? I’m sorry. I have a small collection of knives at home, so I wanted to understand how the knives used in books are similar or different to ones in the kitchen.”  
  
Monika hums. Of course Yuri would seek out facts like that. In fact, she wonders how far she could go with that much as a basis.  
  
“Why can’t you bring your knives to school?” Monika says, face lit up with a smile. She leans closer to her across the aisle way. In a way, she hated herself for doing this, but she needed to test the waters. “I’m sure it would be fun to put them to use on someone.”  
  
Yuri’s head snaps up and she stares at her. She blinks slowly, then rapidly, mouth squaring into an “o” shape. Her voice is muffled as she tries to speak gibberish.  
  
Monika sighs. She taps her fingers on the desk impatiently while the program tries to catch up with itself. Yuri frowns, and she appears confused moments afterwards.  
  
“What were we talking about again?” Yuri asks after a moment. She straightens in her chair. Shrugging, she returns to her book, devouring the knowledge within its pages.  
  
Apparently, the perimeters didn’t extend far.  
  
There are restrictions for this kind of thing. Yuri can never bring the knives to school. Whenever Monika questions something akin to knives or something out of bounds, Yuri gives her a puzzled look, her mouth quirked. The same goes for Natsuki and Sayroi. The area around them blurs and fades as though they are pulling for an answer from thin air.  
  
In short, she doesn’t know how to respond and Monika knows it. In all respects, the school is safe. The game will not allow her to bring a knife to school because it brings up a red error code and there is no script for it.  
  
This is the reason Monika must change the program. Ease it out of its comfort zone.  
  
It’s another aspect that makes Monika realize how lonely she is. How the world boxes her within the limitations of the game and process to a new shift is slow. There is no flexibility unless she causes that to happen herself. She can propose what she recognizes, but if there’s no existing framework for it to occur, her friends won’t comprehend her ad-libs.  
  
As it stands, Monika isn’t upset Yuri can’t hurt anyone. Monika doesn’t want Yuri to stab or kill her classmates. But the idea she can’t argue or truly suggest it frustrates her.  
  
The program never explicitly says how Yuri’s love for knives came into being. She is simply equipped with that particular fascination. Monika refers to it as her specific “trait.” But forcing her to handle her knives properly will teach her unparalleled self-discipline.  
  
Monika believes in Yuri to do that much.

* * *

  
Yuri is still Monika’s work yet to reach fruition. The game has enough freedom that she can develop, and the Player won’t know soon.  
  
However, she needs an obstacle to stack her ability for concentration. If she doesn’t have that, she can’t gradually change the nature of the glitches around her and ease them into the character she is internally. These things are usually hardwired and take time.  
  
Since Monika prefers to stay in the shadows there is another option for Monika.  
  
Natsuki is the only one that yanks Yuri’s chain.  
  
On the other hand, Natsuki has her moments. She has her specific role to play in the game.  
  
Natsuki isn’t as inhibited as Yuri, though. She will speak her mind, and she will blatantly tell the club exactly what she desires from them. They are foils, a balance, far too passionate.  
  
Natsuki is the perfect temper to straighten out Yuri’s growing darker urges. While Yuri might sway on the precipice of sanity, she will not hurt even Natsuki on purpose.  
  
Or, such was Monika’s hopes anyway. Luckily, there was room for trial and error in a game that allowed her to tinker with the code a bit.  
  
Monika wishes she had those built-in traits. She wants something which is concretely hers and unique, but she doesn’t have it. But she wants to explore nonetheless.  
  
Unfortunately, Monika doesn’t know how to go about Yuri and Natsuki’s interactions. Natsuki pushes her buttons, but how? Sayori is too positive to instigate the violence, and Player isn’t far enough to see this yet.

* * *

  
After club the next day Monika stretches her arms above her head. Sayori, Yuri, and Natsuki wave to her on the way out. Today was about as fruitful as the day before.  
  
At the corner of her eye Monika catches a glimpse of something blue next to the room’s cabinet. She is mildly surprised by it.  
  
“Oh, Natsuki.” Monika weaves around the desks and picks up the lone romance manga on the floor. The cabinet is opened a fraction. “I thought you were a little more careful about your precious manga collection.”  
  
Monika is about to return the manga to its rightful place on the shelf. She cracks the cabinet’s door the rest of the way, and she skims the book titles. However, something peeks out at the edge of the book catches her attention. She pulls the scrap of paper from its hiding place and looks at the list.  
  
“Makes sense,” Monika mumbles.  
  
On the page is a list of cupcake ingredients and specific instructions how to bake them. Flour, salt, baking powder, butter, sugar, and eggs . . . There were so many measurements.  
  
Lately, Natsuki scribbles little things like that all the time. So this is where she had put them. Monika thought she had been working on her poems, but this was important too.  
  
Then, a lightbulb flashes to life over her head.

* * *

  
Natsuki rummages through her box of manga. She looks quite preoccupied with her task.  
  
“Hey, Natsuki,” Monika says. “I found this recipe on the floor. Did you drop it?”  
  
Natsuki scans the scrap of paper in Monika’s hand. The tint of a blush dots her cheeks at being caught, and Monika decides it was plain embarrassment. Monika doesn’t care either way if she works on recipes during club.  
  
“Yeah,” Natsuki says carefully. She takes it and tucks into one of the manga on the shelf again. “I think of new ways to bake sweets.”  
  
Somehow Monika found her interest piqued. “Why is that?”  
  
Natsuki had to think for a minute. “It’s, like, recipes have to be written in a certain way. But the lucky thing is, most of it is pretty straightforward. It’s still sort of a challenge.”  
  
Monika nods. “You should share those recipes with us when you get the chance.”  
  
She turns on her heel too soon to see Natsuki’s reaction, but she is thankful. Natsuki may have put her nerves to rest about Yuri. She had to be patient; working out the ingredients to her emotions was not an overnight job, and she is in no real rush.

* * *

  
Monika rights herself on the ledge to Yuri’s bedroom window. It’s the second story, but she can climb, and she isn’t afraid of falling.  
  
Inside Yuri’s room the first object to catch her attention is that there is a giant knife display hanging above her desk. Where other studious students would keep a schedule board, she has this instead. Knives long, stubby, or small align the board. Every knife is in perfect straight angles.  
  
Monika had not expected a collection this meticulous.  
  
“That’s quite the collection,” Monika mumbles. She wonders where half of them came from. But there are pictures taped under each knife in the display case. Are those hints to where she ordered them from? Or were they gifts? She can’t tell from the distance she is at.  
  
Either way, Yuri’s hands are on a lengthy knife. She carefully holds it behind the blade. Such a good girl, really—she was so delicate about these things. She starts to scrape the edge of the knife against a dark stone on her desk. She slashed back and forth. The blade glitters under the lamp light. Monika notices the mechanical way the blade sharpens and glides against the stone in a rhythm.  
  
For Monika, it’s almost hypnotizing. Yuri is thorough and deliberate about her actions. Not once does she make a mistake.  
  
It makes Monika sicker at the thought.  So passionate, well-equipped with that put in her character. The Player probably likes that kind of thing. Is that what Yuri is, the female version of a bad boy with knives?  
  
Monika reaches into her pocket. A small black notebook drops out, and she props it up on her knees. In it were marked different sections. Sayori’s tab is light pick, Natsuki’s tab is dark yellow, and Yuri’s is dark purple.  
  
Every one of the Literature Club members has traits that can be worsened. She hasn’t played much with it, but she wants to. This is just the first step to understanding it better.  
  
Monika cards through Yuri’s files. Inside Yuri’s room, there is a blue light when she looks through the notebook. She can see her skeleton, the different parts of her body that have functions, each stored like a file within her. The notebook is her gateway in.  
  
She arranges Yuri’s files so that her “personality” and “passion” are next to each other. They are but small chips of herself and Monika isn’t sure how to exactly place them yet for maximum efficiency. Hopefully she will figure out how the real formula works.  
  
Monika glances in once more. She pockets the book. Yuri is no longer scraping away at her knife. Now, she has the knife held up to her face. With a contemplative smile, she swings it around to inspect it. She can’t help but notice that she places it close to her skin.  
  
The days pass and Monika observes.  
  
From then on, Yuri is distracted. She doesn’t pay much attention to some things, and she seems to stare at people far longer than she should, especially during the quiet reading sessions at the club. It concerns Monika that she may never leave that particular stage. What is she looking for? Is she deciding that she doesn’t like the club anymore?  
  
The space between her “personality” and “passion” should be enough room to let her insanity fall into place without specifics. Or, perhaps it’s just too broad. Monika really has no idea. She knows that something is turning in her circuits and needs to find equilibrium. Waiting for that to happen is the jarring part.  
  
Monika plays a bit more with the files. She arranges her files in different ways from the start of the file to the end. They sometimes glitch and sting her fingers when they’re too opposite to function next to each other, and she knows that’ll destabilize her too quickly.  
  
Yuri hobbies, family, interest in books and genres, school affairs, free time, basic script, core reactions to unforeseen phenomena (a stale set of questions), and daily life are organized in different ways. Monika isn’t shy to experiment with each of them.  
  
Yuri is likely the one who may take note if she oversteps her boundaries, and Monika doesn’t want her to realize that she is doing it. Well, if there’s another character able to do so.  
  
Eventually, she arrives at a good combination. Monika waves to her early one morning. Yuri looks at her with a tired smile and shoulders her bag. When Monika turns to head to her first class of the day, Yuri pats one of the pockets reassuringly and looks for anyone who may see her. It’s cute that she is concerned. Monika is quite pleased by this. It’s just sad she isn’t inconspicuous yet—not that the program will punish her for it.

* * *

  
During club the next day Monika thinks about this while she checks Sayori’s newest poem. It’s a nice, fluffy poem, but she isn’t paying attention to the intricacies of it. She’s still drawn to Yuri’s odd behavior nearby.  
  
Not much progress to her satisfaction as happened recently, although Yuri was starting to unravel around the seams. She wasn’t looking at her bag as much. That was good.  
  
The air around her flickers with an abnormality. When she raises her head, it seems like she’s looking at something far away. But that’s not the whole issue. Her eyes are rounded, mouth agape. Monika can feel a small pulse of sharpness prickle at her skin, but Sayori and Natsuki aren’t affected. Sayori continues to kick her feet happily whilst she reads Monika’s latest poem.  
  
Yuri’s hand snaps towards her bag. She reaches for the pouch the life is located.  
  
Monika refrains from calling out to her. She clamps her mouth shut, intrigued.  
  
Oh, no, she can’t have that happen. She understands it before Yuri does damage.  
  
Monika brandishes her notebook. She flips through the files until she reaches Yuri’s. One of the darkest files seems to have been corrupted faster than the others; there is a swirling black light around it. Isn’t that one of her outermost “personality” files? Impressive, but she has to be a little more discreet about where she places these files. .chr files are easy to manipulate without a proper eye to oversee them all day. Monika places the file between the files for Yuri’s hobbies and free time. For now, this will have to do.  
  
Yuri scoots back in her chair as though she hears something abrupt. Glancing around herself, she checks to see if the coast is clear. Then, she reaches into her bag and carefully pulls out the knife. Monika can’t see it but she doesn’t have to in order to imagine the glint from the fluorescent lights. Yuri’s eyes train down on the space between her book and her body. Monika can feel the air rattle desperately, alert, after the cut.  
  
Yuri’s expression remains stoic.  
  
Monika breathes a sigh of relief. Well, it was better than the first outcome. These things have to go in a regular slope. A balance.  
  
Nonetheless, Monika will check on that later. Let it fester a bit. Yuri would probably find fascination with herself for a while without including anyone else in her own dangers.  
  
Yes, indeed. There was a recipe to madness.  
  
Monika hums. That would be assumed; no one gets better at anything overnight. But there’s something that makes it so that she is that way without any troublesome spots.  
  
So, Natsuki practices her cooking, did she? And there was only one way to practice. The same way they wrote their poems. It was a simple process that must be repeated.  
  
Ah, that was the ticket.  
  
As soon as Natsuki was out of sight Monika slipped the notebook out of her pocket. She flipped to natsuki.chr and moved around her need for approval, passion, and skills.

* * *

  
In front of Monika, Yuri’s head is bowed over her desk while she reads a thick book with her elbows on the desk. Sayori’s bobbing her head while she thinks. Her pencil hits the page of the newest poem she is working out the kinks for. Monika awaits Natsuki’s arrival.  
  
Natsuki enters the room at that moment. She drops her bag next to her usual desk. As if to build suspense, she covers her mouth with her hand and clears her throat for the room to hear her. She is carrying a plate.  
  
“I-I brought cookies today. I tried something new,” Natsuki announces.  
  
At first, Monika notices she seems nervous. Then, she puffs out her chest and unwraps a batch of red and blue frosting cookies. Natsuki places them in the middle of the club room.  
  
Yuri doesn’t look up, but Sayori bounces to her feet. She grabs one and takes a bite.  
  
“Wow, they taste delicious! Like always, Natsuki!” Sayori chirps with a splotch of frosting dotting her cheek. She takes another bite once again and her cheeks light up in a bright pink. “You’re the best at cooking.”  
  
“Thanks,” Natsuki says. She doesn’t show it but she is pleased based on her tone.  
  
The thing about cooking was, Monika isn’t an expert in that field. Cooking is Natsuki’s “trait” that is specially hers and the game doesn’t divide it equally. She is the only one able to excel. Natsuki was the major player there. So she isn’t sure what draws her to Natsuki’s cooking and the others to it differently.  
  
Sayori was cheerfulness, Natsuki her skill in the kitchen, and Yuri her intelligence. The reminder of these things still irritated her.  
  
After she became aware of the game, she felt like she lost her own sense of self. It had been so robotic before. These days, she was trying to reinvent herself into, honestly, she didn’t know. It was a mystery to her too.  
  
But what was the magic secret of cooking?  
  
“Hey, Natsuki,” Monika asks. She nibbles on the edge of a cookie and smiles amicably. It’s a bit burnt but Monika feels that gives the cookie character. It appears Natsuki’s snacks were made due to perfection otherwise. While the program is designed to be that way, Monika doesn’t know how she achieves that effect. Didn’t she go off her normal path? Were there more paths? “How do you always make such amazing treats?”  
  
“Oh, you know,” Natsuki says. She turns her head and nods to herself. She is obviously quite flattered. “I practice every day. I tried something not my usual today and mixed around my ingredients.”  
  
Monika laughs. “You worry too much!”  
  
Still, Yuri is not paying any attention. Her nose is stuck deep in her book. Possibly put off, Natsuki puts her hands on her hips and walks towards her. Monika can see the glimmer of fire in her eyes, the need to be acknowledged Yuri wasn’t complimenting.  
  
Usually, Natsuki isn’t that quick to abash her.  
  
“How about you, Yuri?” Natsuki asks. “Do you want to try? You don’t have to, but . . .”  
  
Yuri sighs. She doesn’t look up—Monika isn’t sure just how she messed with Yuri’s personality to that degree—but when she looks up she is calm. “Excuse me, Natsuki, but I’m trying to read here,” she tells her patiently. “I don’t really want anything.”  
  
Such patience! Monika marvels at her. Even though she was the one that indirectly caused her to be rude in return, she is quite invested in Yuri’s mixed feelings. The irritation crosses her face swiftly and then disappears.  
  
“But just a little taste,” Natsuki says. Her tone is proud of her creation, a need to show it off to her. “And then you can go back to that.”  
  
Monika expects it, but Yuri’s amusement is stopped at zero. She looks away without flinching and continues to read her book.  
  
Cold. Perhaps they had a fight before the club? Or what had happened? Now that she thought of it, there were a few outside factors which Monika doesn’t know of. But she knew enough to know this was mostly her doing.  
  
The mechanics beyond her direct control are equally thrilling and stressful.  
  
Monika’s gushing at her own investigation came to a halt the moment Natsuki stomps back to the front of the room. She snatches the plate and returns to Yuri’s desk.  
  
Yuri looks up in time to see Natsuki’s shadow fall over her face. She opens her mouth to speak, but Natsuki is quicker, and she pushes the cookie in her mouth. Yuri’s eyes bulge and she coughs at the sheer surprise.  
  
Nothing is quite as shocking as that. Monika grips the edge of her desk. Natsuki is non-argumentative. She isn’t the type to be so aggressive and forward about her cooking.  
  
Sayori gasps. Her chair scraps on the ground, and she stands to her feet. “Hey!” she yells at them. Her words are choppy, useless, stock phrases that mean nothing. She is frozen in place, searches for an action to take. The chalkboard behind Sayori flashes bright pink.  
  
Natsuki’s face is flushed. Her teeth grit, and her eyes narrow at Yuri. “Eat it,” she snaps.  
  
“Why should I?” Yuri asks. “I didn’t ask you to do anything. I politely told you to stop!”  
  
Natsuki chokes. She is tongue-tied. Hurt crosses her face. “I’m doing it because I want you to like it!” she tells her. “You don’t take it seriously, I knew it. Why do you like it doesn’t matter to you? I was thinking about if you’d like them when I made them!” A tear lingers on the edge of her eye. Before that sinks in for Monika, though, Natsuki raises her hand and leans over Yuri’s desk.  
  
There it is. Monika has to intervene.  
  
Perhaps she had been too hasty after all.  
  
No, no, no. Monika is regretful.  
  
The nosedive for the worse makes Monika realize that she hadn’t been as thorough about Natsuki’s mental state as she had Yuri’s. In her own way, Natsuki was fragile and gentle. Like Yuri, she doesn’t want Natsuki to emulate violent behavior from her own life—it would be as wrong as letting Yuri injure one of them. Even if Natsuki simply aims to slap her, Monika can’t have violence so soon.  
  
Monika is quicker. She lunges for Natsuki and grabs her arm. Natsuki shoves her, but Monika persists, and Sayori behind them tries to quell them with bland “let’s get along” sentences that aren’t worth repeating.  
  
Yuri whips out the knife. She isn’t sure where it materializes this time, but she holds it up in her hand straight at Natsuki’s throat. There is an off darkness in her eyes. Yuri seems distraught. Her gaze lands on the ceiling, the window, and everywhere inbetween except Natsuki herself. Her hand is quaking and she takes several deep breaths.  
  
Really, she hopes she won’t do it. That would defeat the whole point of this exercise. Even Monika holds her breath. She fully expects Yuri will slash them both with the blade.  
  
Would it hurt for that to happen? To be hit by a blade like that? Does it hurt to self-harm? Or were those injuries more mental than physical? Now, she isn’t quite sure.  
  
Monika had overdone things. Her recipe for the disaster didn’t have the right finesse. She might have to learn subtly from Natsuki. Would the same real world cooking disciplines rules apply to the actions in a game?  
  
Monika is ready to reach for her notebook. Yuri takes another turn and her hand and the knife disappears under the desk. She is fighting something deep within herself. It is possible it is the origin of the code of the game itself, and Monika is awestruck.  
  
Does Yuri understand anything at all?  
  
The room goes silent. The world around them churns uneasily, falls back into place from its former chaos. The act of the character’s rebellion is too much for it to register. Now, it seems to have forgotten the intention to kill.  
  
Monika clears her throat to dispel the stale atmosphere. The tense moment passes.  
  
“See, it’s okay, Natsuki. Yuri just isn’t hungry right now. Maybe tomorrow. Now, how about we get back to reading?” Monika suggests merrily. “I want to read your poem from last night the most, Natsuki! Didn’t you say you’d write about the sunny weather yesterday?”  
  
The anger stretched thin across Natsuki’s face dissipates. She quivers, lost about what exactly she has just done, and nods. “Uh, yeah,” she replies. She pushes Monika’s hand on her shoulder away and returns to her desk. Stiffly, she searches for the piece of paper, and she only loosens up when she finds it. Natsuki’s movements are robotic and don’t stray too far from their normal program.  
  
By the time Monika has the time to check Yuri’s knife is once again well out of sight. Monika evaluates her. The flare of her nostrils and glare soften back into a pleasant face. She removes the knife from the book, apparently having used it as a bookmark. She is must more conservative about it this time. Monika hears the light clink of the metal against Yuri’s wooden desk.  
  
Yuri’s eyes squeeze shut, and she breaths out of her nose. Monika isn’t sure how many times she will have the courage to cut herself in the middle of the club, but she has breached that barrier. Maybe she should teach her that it’s best out in the hall so the Player won’t have a chance to ever see.  
  
Monika has taught her that she should self-harm herself only and she is proud of that.  
  
One thing is nonnegotiable; Monika dialed up the volume on Natsuki’s intentions too far. She rearranges the pattern back to the way it was in her notebook for the rest of the club, and Natsuki returns to normal, more or less.  
  
Natsuki was best as a brash girl that shows off her cute tsundere side when she was upset anyway. Natsuki was another case. Yuri had controlled herself, though, and that force of willpower of hers is certainly a source of excitement.  
  
Monika smiles and nibbles on the remainder of her cookie. The room goes back to its usual good-natured self, and the girls around her read or wrote as they please. The program forgets her meddling for the time being. It wasn’t much, but Monika has learned enough about the .char files, so she considers this try a success.  
  
At least in a game with so many glitches and chances there is a next time to fix her mistakes.


End file.
